


His Butler, Possessive

by thegirlwiththefandoms



Series: His Master, Evocative [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aggressive Sebastian at the end, Chose to include underage warning this time just to be safe, Ciel is a manipulative and controlling little brat, M/M, aged-up ciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththefandoms/pseuds/thegirlwiththefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel Phantomhive has grown accustomed to nights with his butler. But he can't leave well enough alone. In an attempt to exploit Sebastian's own desire for him, he tried to push the demon to jealousy. But how far is too far?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Causation

It was decidedly unexpected. Sebastian, after all, was accustomed to Lady Elizabeth’s presence in the manor, and now that the young master was older and more mature the butler understood that he was required to make himself entirely amenable to the notion that he might soon serve not only the young lord as per their contract, but a young mistress as his companion. It had, of course, been predestined since their birth, and Sebastian could hardly attempt to obfuscate the terms of a contract older than his own merely because of certain… developments. To the young lord, perhaps, they might serve to create a veritable cacophony in his ever-processing mind. After all, beginning to see to the lubricious urges he possessed with none other than his butler, a man for one and a creature of hell for another, was likely not something even Ciel Phantomhive could easily repress. Even with the tumult which had perpetually befallen him in all of his seventeen years, Sebastian was entirely able to create something inconceivable to the boy who claimed to be immovable. 

But it was a brisk autumnal evening that had caught Sebastian’s eyes. Until this night, Sebastian had come to his lord’s chamber whenever he was called, all-too-pleased to alleviate any discomfort on Ciel’s part with whispered words of subtle control offset by the throes of passion he induced. In waking hours, the rapport between butler and boy was absolute and with clear set boundaries. As with everything in Victorian London, there were rules to be followed… and subtly exploited with the knowledge that one fouled step could irrevocably spoil the reputation of a great lord already shrouded in disapproval for his age and the aberrant nature of his departure in his youth followed by the unexpected return. While Sebastian was not overly concerned with such human trifles, he was well aware that should he ruin his young master fully realising his revenge would become far more onerous than ever before. And, with the patience which had become Sebastian’s mantle to bear, he was not about to generate further tribulation with indiscretion. 

As such, their nightly rituals were carried out in absolute surreptitiousness. And Sebastian perhaps preferred to have his secrets from the inconversant servants who merely spoke of Ciel’s temperament being much improved. It was nothing more, however, than the assuaging of some physical requisite which resided in all creatures both natural and supernatural. Even angels, as Sebastian remembered with revulsion, displayed such exigency. Corrupt angels, but angels nonetheless. Where, then, was the harm in the panting writhe of a pair of bodies made to serve one another in more ways than one? It was simple. It was crude and primordial, but simple. 

At least, it was what the butler would have one believe. 

However, on that aforementioned brisk autumnal evening, Lady Elizabeth had taken supper with the young master in his study, removed from the dining room and leaving Sebastian entirely listless. He took a great pride in the preparation of dinner and the atmosphere which must accompany it, and to have the duty revoked for the purpose of some private confidence was cause of agitation on the part of the demon. What more had he to do but to serve as butler? He had been robbed of other obligations when he had taken Ciel’s contract, and he hadn’t once offered protest on it merely because the benefits he would reap made the albeit extended venture entirely worthwhile. 

Making his way up to the study at the behest of the bell to clear away the soiled cutlery, Sebastian was given pause as he rounded the corner to the sight of Ciel’s lips pressed chastely to the rouged mouth of his betrothed. He hadn’t expected, of course, that a shot of covetous anger would overtake him. Ciel’s actions were, of course, not entirely without cause; they had been betrothed for seventeen years. The wedding would hardly be far off. What was one kiss? 

But Sebastian’s red eyes hardened. The young lord’s mouth was as complex as the rest of him: displaying his displeasure, his determination, his petulance. It was as expressive as the single cerulean eye which observed the world with abject distrust and shrewd contemplation. Elizabeth Midford would never understand the nuances of that mouth, nor did she deserve to taste its bitter apathy. That honour was Sebastian’s, and he would dare to purport that he had earned it. 

Of course, a Phantomhive butler did not display his agitation or jealousy. Certainly not while guests were present. 

And so it wasn’t until after Lady Elizabeth had been shown from the manor that Sebastian prepared a decaffeinated jasmine tea for the young master with a deficit in his usual finesse. 

As he wheeled the tray down the hall to the study, he knocked lightly before entering the room. 

The walls were cast in the orange light of the lamp burning at the young master’s desk as his fountain pen scratched out whatever should surface in his thoughts. The act of taking up a journal seemed a trivial pastime at first when it had been presented as an option for Ciel. Tanaka’s own recordings of Phantomhive happenings should be enough, should they not? At least, that was what Ciel had asked. Perhaps, then, the young master’s mind had simply become too overwhelmed by his thoughts that he finally surrendered to some need to partially express them if only to allow room for the development of new ones. Whatever the reason, the young master kept his journal under lock and key and Sebastian had yet to find interest in its contents. 

As he entered, Ciel looked up, his blue eyes taking in the butler. The gaze contained metamorphosed view for the creature before him, likely thanks to the alteration in the nature of their relationship. Still, Ciel never expressed such sentiments, a truth which suited both butler and boy. 

“What is it, Sebastian?” He asked, lifting his head from where his cheek rested against his hand. 

“I thought, perhaps, that my lord might enjoy something of a decompressant before he retires,” the demon replied. “We are all well aware of how… trying Lady Elizabeth’s company can prove itself.” 

Quirking a brow, Ciel waved the tray away. “I don’t need it. Lizzie’s presence wasn’t as… burdensome as it can be.” 

Sebastian had to school his expression to remain neutral as he felt a wash of the same molten envy as before. Lady Elizabeth had, of course, matured since their youth, but certainly she could not have changed so much. True, the staff no longer had to endure the humiliation of her ‘beautifications’ of the manor, and her greetings were far less raucous. But could she truly be evolving enough to serve as a worthy companion for the young master? And to what end? Such a development could lead to changes in the soul that Sebastian had so arduously cultivated from its youth. And such a thing would be unacceptable to him. If there was no longer a quiet pride and infallible desire for personal justice in Ciel Phantomhive, the beacon that was his soul would cease to call for the darkness which only Sebastian could provide. 

“Is that so?” He questioned. 

Hearing his tone, Ciel looked up from his work again. Studying the butler, he felt his brow raising yet again. What was Sebastian’s game? “And if it is?” He ventured. 

“Then it is, my lord.” 

Indeed. Such a diplomatic response. Ciel said nothing. 

“In that case,” Sebastian began, “would my lord care to retire?” 

He watched as Ciel dropped his gaze back to the document he was writing. He hadn’t been dismissed, so he stood still and waited. 

Ciel’s slender finger ran over the shaft of the pen in contemplation before finally the implement was discarded. “Very well,” he agreed. 

Moving behind the young lord to assist in pulling out his chair, Sebastian’s gaze was now intransigently fixed upon the lines of Ciel’s body. Idly, he wondered whether he would be called upon that night to defile his young master yet again. His mind wandered to what aural delights would be awarded him for his efforts. Ciel was so very vocal when he had gone pliant for Sebastian. 

“Well,” came the very voice on which Sebastian ruminated. “Are you going to follow me or not?” 

“Forgive me, young master. I found myself entirely preoccupied.” 

A small smirk settled upon the fine features of the smaller man, as if he knew precisely what ‘preoccupied’ his butler. “Whatever,” he answered, entirely blase as he moved to exit the study with the full expectation that he would be shadowed as he was each night. And Sebastian did not disappoint, as he rarely did. 

Making their way to the lord’s chamber, Ciel moved to perch on the edge of his great bed as he awaited the beginning of the nightly regime which had been in place since the dawn of their contract. He held out a lazy hand, the beryl gem glittering in the firelight. 

Sebastian knelt before his young master, divesting him of his ring, his shoes, socks, and garters. His fingers were reverent against his flesh without crudity, gloved digits working deftly at buttons and ties. Perhaps he had grown complacent in his years of this, or perhaps there was simply a comforting normality in the utterly expected. After all, demons’ immortality often led to a lack of commonality in their behaviours. When one was tasked with filling one’s life or fading into nothing but a pressing sense of ennui and disdain for one’s own existence, perhaps customary established routine relieved some of the burden of choice. 

Pausing upon the young master’s full denudation, Sebastian raised a brow as he held his cotton nightshirt in delicate hands. 

“What is it?” Ciel demanded, crossing his arms over his slight and naked chest. 

“Simply wondering if there is any point to redressing you if you are simply going to call for me in a few hours at most,” Sebastian mused, the small amount of taunting present in his voice as always. 

There was the smirk that Ciel sometimes wore. Normally, it was when he knew he would be taking the power in a situation. Sebastian innately distrusted the expression while simultaneously venerating it. After all, their perpetual struggle for supremacy in their twisted relationship was what made it interesting for the demon. 

“Give me the dressing gown,” Ciel replied. “I daresay I shan’t be calling for you tonight.” The smirk he wore had turned derisive now. 

Of course, Sebastian did not balk from their usual banter; the day he did would be his final day as a demon, surely. “No? Is this for the sake of my young lord’s pride, finally catching up to him? Or perhaps I have offered some offense?” He doubted the latter very much. Ciel had never repressed any protestation or chastisement of the butler. In fact, Sebastian frequently wondered if the little tyrant didn’t relish in offering them. 

“Neither,” Ciel answered, moving to pluck the garment from Sebastian’s fingers. “I simply don’t want you.” 

The demon’s vermillion gaze flashed at that. Didn’t want him? How dare he? Rage and admiration mingled as Ciel dressed himself and slipped beneath his duvet, leaving Sebastian standing at his bedside. “I see,” the demon replied. 

Didn’t want him. Was this some test from Ciel, who did so love to push Sebastian? Careless of the butler to let his charge see his own desirous need in their couplings. Just like an exploitative little serpent, Ciel had lain in wait for something to use against the butler and then found it quite nicely. 

“That will be all, Sebastian.” 

Insolent. Impudent. Ciel was always that way if he could be. He reveled in his stolen moments of dominance, particularly against a creature inherently slated to be more powerful.

“Sleep well, my young lord.” 

As he left the room, Sebastian did have a lingering doubt, however. Ciel was always stalwartly contumelious, it was true. But the demon could not help but consider that kiss he had witnessed between the master and his betrothed. And perhaps, he had found a new object over which to lust? 

He supposed he would come to see the level of truth in that hypothesis as the days went on. Still, his hand curled into a fist at his side. Dictatorial little whelp.


	2. Exacerbation

Sebastian’s moods had grown foul. 

He was, of course, more adept at containing himself than the young master had been at the start of this venture back when Bardroy had so helpfully offered up the obvious solution which had then been swiftly employed by the butler. However, in doing so, Sebastian had grown accustomed to the brief encounters on an intimate level with the soul which thrummed beneath the pearlescent flesh of Ciel Phantomhive. The rush of blood beneath sucking lips at a hammering pulse, the taste of appetence assuaged against skillful lips, and the delicious heat of realised sexuality had all become anchors to the very essence he so craved and was perpetually denied. The hunger could be slaked when Sebastian was permitted to bruise, to bite. Now, Ciel played a far more perilous game than he realised. And yet he seemed content to continue his prodding of the beast that served him. Perhaps he was convinced of Sebastian’s unshakeable patience. Or perhaps he wished to press the limits of that same patience. Whatever the reason, Sebastian resented it and Ciel relished it. 

The fact of the matter was that the young lord hadn’t called his demon to his bed to fulfill his twilight desires in nearly a fortnight. And each nightly exchange as Sebastian undressed him proved a trial for the butler’s control as he was dismissed with that same smirk which informed the demon that his master’s efforts were entirely conscious. 

Now, to worsen the situation, Lady Elizabeth had come for another visit to the manor. Sebastian had thrown himself into the preparation of dinner, forcing his mind away from what possible cosseting Ciel might wish for him to observe. Lady Elizabeth, for her part, was blameless in this venture but had been rendered an unfortunate victim by proximity. 

The pair had taken their supper, Sebastian forced to observe from his post the coquettish glances from Lady Elizabeth as she sipped her wine and the far subtler return of them from his young master. He said nothing, though the tension of his shoulders was entirely noticeable to Ciel, who did nothing to hide his smirk as he lifted his glass for a refill of the wine. Sebastian wanted to destroy him, to wrench the smirk from his face, to take it out of his hide. He wanted to consume him, as he always had, but now the hunger was accompanied by a desperate desire to punish. Ciel was toying with him, and Sebastian was forced only to abide it. 

With the cessation of the meal, Ciel had offered Lady Elizabeth his arm before glancing over his shoulder to the butler standing taut in his place awaiting orders. “Perhaps some of that tea Lao sent over,” he prompted before turning his attention back to the prattling Elizabeth with an expression of rapture which could not reach his eyes. After all, Sebastian knew well that, while the young master was fond of his fiancee, she could incite no passion in him. She was not dark enough; she never could be. And yet this facade continued. 

His gloved hand rested over his heart. “Of course, my lord,” replied Sebastian. 

Of course, it did not take long to prepare the accoutrements for serving said tea. Evidently, however, it was time enough for Sebastian to approach the master’s study only to overhear a hushed giggle from Lady Elizabeth that had his skin crawling. 

“Ciel, we mustn’t,” she murmured. “What if Sebastian comes?” 

“What does _he_ matter?” Was the reply. “He’s merely my butler.” 

Merely his butler indeed. He kept his back straight as he approached, pausing as he heard Ciel once again. 

“It’s hardly improper. You are my fiancee, after all.” 

He could wait no longer, pressing open the door without so much as a knock. He could be insolent as well. 

What accosted him was the sight of the young master with a lap full of his betrothed, who burned bright red in spite of herself. Ciel’s hands were chaste, of course, but the present tableau was suggestive enough for Sebastian to know that it had been orchestrated for his benefit. If it could be called a benefit. His gloved hands tightened on the handle of the trolley as he fixed the most blithe smile upon his face. “The tea you requested, young master.” 

His voice was enough to spook Lady Elizabeth, who shot to her feet and across the room to one of the free chairs like a startled deer. It was an apt simile, if the size of her verdigris gaze was any indication. 

Ciel, for his part, at least had the decency to get to his feet and feign indignance. “Whatever happened to knocking, you idiot?” He demanded, though Sebastian saw right through the charade. He was behaving as expected, but he knew precisely why Sebastian had neglected his characteristic etiquette. It had been his hope, after all. 

“Do forgive me, my lord. I had not realised I would be interrupting a private moment. You did request my presence, after all.” 

“I told you, Ciel!” Came the strained voice of Elizabeth. 

“Hush, Lizzie,” Ciel urged. “It means nothing. He will not speak of it. Especially if I order him not to. _Isn’t that right, Sebastian_?” The challenge was clear in Ciel’s voice, but the butler maintained his ridiculous grin. 

“I am, as always, your loyal servant, my lord.” 

Lady Elizabeth’s upset was not so easily mitigated, however. “I-if you say so,” she forced herself to say, but the tension was palpable. “As it is, Ciel, I think it’s getting late. I should go.” 

“If you wish,” was the reply. After all, she had served her purpose for the exercise. If she wished to leave, doubtless it would not bother Ciel. “Finny will see you home.” 

“G-good night, Ciel,” she responded before making her way toward the door of the study. “S-sebastian.” 

“My lady.” 

When she was gone, Ciel had already begun to make his way toward his desk. “I do hope you’re satisfied--” He began before he was abruptly cut off by the butler moving in a blur to stand in front of him, leaning in so his face was mere inches from his master’s. 

“What a loathsome little farce you put on, my lord,” said Sebastian as his gloved hand caught the tie at Ciel’s neck to keep him close. “But tell me, do you not think it crass to toy with the Lady Elizabeth’s emotions in your feeble attempts to get a rise out of me?” 

The response was, apparently, not at all what Ciel had wanted or even anticipated, as his gaze went from triumphant smugness to agitation. His hand flew, smacking Sebastian hard across the cheek. “Release me at once, demon,” he snapped. “How dare you?” 

Sebastian did not even flinch in response to the blow, which had had no real intention behind it. “But young master,” he asked, voice dangerous even in its pleasantness. “Is this not what you wish of me?” He leaned closer so that his murmur could be heard in the young lord’s ear. “Is this not the end to the game you play? Or have I entirely misread your intention?” He wore his own smirk now as he pulled back only to lean in again so that each word had his lips brushing against Ciel’s. “If you wish for me to behave possessively, you need only order me to do so.” 

Evidently not the right answer for Ciel. “I said release. Me,” came the reply. “And get the hell out of my study.” 

Letting go of Ciel’s tie, Sebastian stepped back before offering a mocking inclination of his head. “Of course, my lord.”


	3. Retribution

The trouble with the enterprise that Ciel had established was that both master and butler were stalwartly obstinate in their refusal to submit to one another. So, while Sebastian remained incensed with his young master, he refused to be the first to crack. However, Ciel did so press him. 

He did admire, of course, Ciel’s gumption, even if it was beginning to wear on him. He had been subjected to more ‘chance’ encounters with Ciel and Elizabeth, teasing brushes of hands, and even to overhearing masturbatory efforts from the young master. Of course, the latter had actually played against Ciel, who could not reach release without assistance. 

Now, both men were tense and at their breaking points. And that was when the letter bearing the royal seal had come to the Phantomhive Manor. A string of grisly hangings happening in London’s fair streets and a missive to the Queen’s Guard Dog to put a stop to them. Of course, this put the game on hold as Ciel arranged for the immediate answer to the summons. Mustn’t leave Her Majesty waiting, after all. 

The streets of lower London stank of the filth which inhabited them as the young lord’s immaculately polished shoes clicked along them, his butler at his side as always. A visit to the Undertaker and a well-timed act of comedy had gleaned the information that the hangings had all been self-inflicted. Of course, the knowledge didn’t seem to add up upon surveying the natures of those found dead. None of them appeared to have a single motive for suicide. 

They had just made their way down an alley towards the home of one of the victims when Sebastian heard the telltale whirring of an instrument he had the misfortune of knowing well. Lifting the young lord into his arms with all the same ease he had possessed when Ciel was but a child of thirteen, Sebastian sidestepped in time for a Reaper in red to crash with a great cloud of dust onto the cobbled ground. A groan of pain followed the collision as Ciel gave a sigh of exasperation. “My God, not him.” 

“Hello, Grell,” greeted the butler as he deposited the young master on his feet yet again. “To what do we owe the… well I would say pleasure, but…” 

Getting to his feet and brushing debris from his stolen coat, Grell Sutcliff gave a flirtatious pout. “Honestly, Bassy, can I never catch you by surprise?” He moved to continue when it was clear that he would get no reply from either the butler or the displeased nobleman at his side. “I came here for work. A lady gets no peace anymore.” Grell’s eyelashes batted as he pulled a small book from his inside pocket. “Thought I might find you and the little brat here, though. You always seem to be meddling when I have business. I’m beginning to think these aren’t just chances meetings, hmm?” 

Normally, Sebastian would have to fight to conceal his utter disdain for the Reaper before him. Grell always proved to be of some annoyance to him and rarely served to be of any use. However… Sebastian spared a furtive glance toward Ciel before offering a coquettish expression to the Reaper. “Perhaps you’re correct,” he responded if only to irritate the young master. Of course, he would realise that Sebastian had not suddenly developed some infatuation for the dreadful little _insect_ , but the point would be well-taken, he would wager. 

“Oh, for the love--” 

“Really?!?!?” Grell shrilled, moving to spin around Sebastian before falling into a swoon against his shoulder. “Well, Bassy, if you want to see me, you can always just call. I’d move all of heaven for our lo--” 

“As long as you’re here, why don’t you try to be of some use to us,” snapped Ciel, done with the little game. “Who’s on the list and is it part of the string of hangings?” 

Grell straightened, eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. “My my, someone’s _testy_ ,” the Reaper shot back before turning his attention back to the little book he held. Flipping it open, he let his black gloved hand move over page. “Here it is. Charles Jones is slated to die by hanging tonight. The cause is suicide, but--” 

“Let me guess,” Ciel shot back. “Something’s off.” 

“Well… yes,” Grell answered. “How did you know?” 

“We’re investigating the case, idiot. Of course we would have come to that conclusion. And, additionally, there is always some abnormality when _you_ appear. So if it was a suspicion before, it’s a confirmation now.” 

“Well, aren’t we just the _brightest_ little brat in London? Honestly, how do you put up with him, Bassy?” 

“I couldn’t begin to explain,” answered the butler. 

“ _Excuse me_?” It was Ciel’s turn for indignation now before shaking his head. “Forget it. Just get the fool to tell us where the death is supposed to happen.” 

“And why should I do anything for you?” Grell replied with a nasty grin. “I don’t have any such obligation, now do I? And after you’ve been so _nasty_.” 

“Sebastian, this is an order--” “No need, my lord.” Sebastian turned his attention to Grell now, moving to step close to the Reaper. “Come now, Grell. I think my young master would greatly appreciate your cooperation in this matter. He does get so caught up in his duties to Her Majesty. And I know _I_ would be so entirely grateful.” This last was uttered with a seductive purr to the Reaper, who gave a girlish coo. 

“Ooh, you do know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?” *** 

The case had closed fairly simply after Sebastian had garnered Grell’s cooperation. A heartbroken father left childless thanks to suicide seeking revenge on everyone who had ever given his late son cause for distress. He had been armed with an intriguing serum he had been slipping into pints of ale that he himself had bought for his victims to make them supernaturally amenable to the suggestion that they should kill themselves. Sebastian had been swift to see to the crestfallen patriarch, slipping him his own weapon before they had watched him leap to his death in the Thames after a particularly exhausting chase. 

As they sat in the carriage back to the manor, Ciel’s mood was foul in spite of the case he had just solved. 

“Something troubling you, my lord?” Sebastian prompted knowingly. 

Ciel glanced up at the butler. “The Reaper, Sebastian? How beneath you.” 

“Whatever do you mean, my young lord?” The butler asked with sparkling amusement in his eyes. Ciel was losing his own chess match against his own self-appointed black knight. How very predictable of him. 

“I think you know quite well what I mean.” 

“You have never objected before to whatever means I might use to achieve your ends.” 

Silence. 

So he was turning to petulance? Very well. Evidently, he wished to play, but only if the game was on his own terms. Unfortunately, the young lord would have to learn that demons didn’t like games they didn’t win.


	4. Culmination

The game had continued for nearly a month now, and neither party was particularly amused any longer. Sebastian’s hunger burned him with no reprieve, and Ciel’s appetence pressed at the back of his mind almost ubiquitously. But both were so intractable that neither would decide that the venture was no longer worthwhile. 

The next time that Lady Elizabeth came to visit, Ciel had been on his best behaviour for her benefit. At least, seemingly. He didn’t attempt anything quite so bold as the last time, perhaps because he had elected to opt for something more subtle. Sebastian observed as the pair pressed close in the elegant waltz in the main hall for which Ciel had called. Though his dancing had much improved since his youth, the tepid expression on his face spoke volumes to the reason why he had asked his fiancee to dance. But his brushing hands and caressing touches were not at all for Lady Elizabeth’s benefit. But this game was getting tiresome. Ciel would have to come up with something else, for Sebastian was bored with this sort of taunting. 

Evidently, though, this was not to be Ciel’s final move. No. 

Ciel had seen Elizabeth off personally this time, loading her and her handmaiden, Pamela, into the carriage to take her home. As he watched the carriage slip into the distance, Sebastian stood at his back. “You did dance divinely, young master,” the demon commented. “Lady Elizabeth must have been impressed.” His tone was lazy, dispassionate. He would show Ciel that he was beginning to lack the amusement necessary to keep up this avocation that his master seemed so insistent on maintaining. 

“Indeed,” Ciel answered. “And I suppose I should be endeavouring to continue with impressing her. Before long, I shall have to marry her, after all.” He turned to breeze past Sebastian, making his way back into the house as he continued. “An inevitability I had never thought would have to come to fruition. But it seems that you shall soon be _her_ butler as well as mine.” He gave a bitter scoff as he made his way up the front stairs, walking stick hanging from the crook of his elbow. “Not something I expected when I entered into our contract. I had thought you would prove more efficient as a harbinger of my vengeance. How wrong I was.” 

Sebastian stopped at that, prompting Ciel to do that same. “Is that so?” He asked tightly. Sebastian could handle many things, and he did so with grace, but the insinuation that he was somehow deficient at the very purpose for his existence--making deals and consuming souls--was truly dangerous territory. 

“I daresay it is,” Ciel responded, still standing with his back to the demon. “We are no closer to bringing those who have wronged me to justice than we were five years ago. I bear the burden of my parents’ deaths with no end in sight. And why?” 

“I could not say,” Sebastian answered tightly. “Perhaps because my lord has ceased in his pursuit of his vengeance?” 

Shaking his head, Ciel did turn now. His eyes were hard as he spoke, as if the words being used were not just in service to his game but the revelation of some inner turmoil roiling inside of him. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” he answered. “I think perhaps the creature I have chosen with which to align myself was somehow the wrong choice. Perhaps…” He let his cane thud to the ground as he crossed into the demon’s space, “...I might benefit from another contract.” 

Sebastian’s eyes now glowed the dangerous red of the beast prepared to strike. “And what would the terms of that contract be?” He demanded. 

“Well, there is the pesky business of our own agreement,” Ciel shot back. “I suppose I would have to have you killed to get out of it, wouldn’t I?” 

“Almost certainly.” 

“And then? Then I could actually achieve my ends. Find retribution against those who have damaged my pride.” He clucked his tongue, features pernicious as he looked down upon his butler even while looking up to meet his eyes. “Perhaps a stronger demon would _earn_ the right to my soul,” he bit out before stepping back. “Certainly something to think on.” 

As he turned to walk away, Sebastian’s hand shot out to curl viciously around his wrist, whirling him. Ciel gave a pained gasp, eyes going wide as he stared up at the livid butler. 

“I think not,” Sebastian snarled. 

In a flash, the pair had been relocated, thanks to Sebastian’s synergy, to one of the lesser used drawing rooms. Ciel found himself pinned to the desk within it as Sebastian’s free hand caught his chin. “No other demon will ever eat your soul, Ciel Phantomhive,” he growled out. “That privilege will forever be mine to anticipate. Until the day comes that I can drain it from you piece by piece, it is mine to covet. Mine to protect.” 

Ciel jerked against his hold, eyes now flashing in terrified consternation. “Let me go!” He snarled. “Unhand me right now, you filth!” 

“Agree with me,” Sebastian ordered, the edge in his voice almost bestial. “Say it now.” 

“Sebastian, I order you to release me!” Ciel choked out, thrashing against the demon’s hold. 

Of course, Sebastian was compelled to comply, and did so, leaving Ciel to administer a hard kick to his middle only to get him away. He never abused his servants, and he never would. But Sebastian had earned the strike. “If you _ever_ so touch me again--” 

“It is what you wished for, young master,” the demon spat, hand pressed to his abdomen. “You wanted me to show you how rapacious I am for you. For your soul.” He darted forward, glaring as his hands rested on either side of Ciel on the desk. “And if I didn’t yield to your desires, what kind of a butler would I be?” The question was one he had posed before, of course, but never like this. Never with such sneering derision. But was he wrong? Or was this not what Ciel had wanted? 

Determined not to be seen as the lesser, the young lord’s hand tightened hard in his butler’s hair before he moved to close his teeth on the butler’s lip. Normally, he was not the aggressor of these encounters, deferring to Sebastian’s expertise in the matters. Now, he needed to be shown that Ciel was not to be thrown around thusly. Not to be subjugated. He was the master, dammit. He gave the orders. 

In spite of the intention behind his kiss, he allowed for Sebastian’s hand to jerk him close. His gasp was something he couldn’t contain even as he allowed his free hand to undo the buttons of Sebastian’s shirt and vest, baring his chest before dragging his nails over the spot where the heart would be if Sebastian even had one. 

He was repaid with being pressed back onto the desk. However, the intention was entirely changed to one of licentiousness rather than true fear-invoking domination. Sebastian hooked one of Ciel’s legs over his hip before his teeth moved to drag down his neck. The demon’s hands undid the tie around Ciel’s neck, discarding it along with his shirt. His hips rocked against Ciel’s, making the younger man moan as his head tossed beneath his ministrations. His hands bit into the demon’s shoulders as he felt his body reacting to the intensity of the situation. His hips lifted against Sebastian’s in desperation; it had been too long, after all. And their couplings were never like this. He supposed he had himself to thank for the bruises that would inevitably form from the demon’s hold. Now, he bit down on his own lip as Sebastian’s teeth caught his white gloves to toss them aside. Black nails ran over his young master’s own nubile flesh before his fingers jerked off the patch hiding the evidence of their contract. 

Ciel didn’t know where Sebastian produced the phial from, but he was not in his right mind to consider it because the demon had dropped his palm to cup him through his trousers, pressing firmly against the arousal that now strained there. “Fuck,” he choked out. “Sebastian.” 

“Look at you, young lord. Not quite so defiant now, are we?” Sebastian bit out, hand dropping beneath the waistband of the midnight blue trousers in which he had so meticulously dressed Ciel that very same morning. His fingers closed around him, working him. 

“God, yes,” Ciel whimpered, back arching. 

“Always the insistence in calling for _Him_ when you’re with me. Do you not see the irony?” 

Ciel wasn’t in his right mind enough to answer as he was divested of his trousers entirely and left vulnerable to Sebastian’s advances. He cried out, eyes widening as that hot mouth slipped over him and moistened digits began to prepare him. It was intense, febrile. Sweat had sprung to Ciel’s forehead as he pressed up into that sinful mouth, hand gripping at the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles went white. Expletives tumbled from his lips as his chest heaved and the coil in his stomach began to tighten. 

But Sebastian, evil as he was, pulled back before Ciel’s pleasure could be truly realised. He would have protested were he not suddenly lifted onto the demon’s own turgid length. His body took him so easily, in spite of how long it had been, and instantly he tightened around the other. “Hard, Sebastian,” he snarled out. 

The demon was quite content to oblige, hips snapping up into his master with growls and feral primitivity of his own. His grip rested at the back of Ciel’s neck and across his back to one thin hip, fingers pressing bruises there as he kept him anchored. Ciel hardly felt it, however, head falling back as Sebastian’s breath burned him and his sharp teeth threatened to break skin. 

“Sebastian,” he whined out, feeling the coil’s presence once more. Fingers buried in the demon’s hair as his cries mounted. 

The blood that sprang up beneath the demon's teeth passed unnoticed to Ciel, who broke under the sensation while Sebastian lapped greedily at the beads of scarlet which offered him heady hints of the essence he so craved. The taste had Sebastian shaking before his face buried in the boy’s neck as he fell apart. 

The room was silent but for the fervent gasps for air from both Sebastian and Ciel. The butler still clutched the boy to him as he purred out with the deepest reverence, “I will make the grandest feast out of you, young master.”


End file.
